


fated to be;

by kinneyb



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 14:25:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19465852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Not long after Quentin and Alice arrive at Brakebills they are pulled aside and given the task of going undercover in Fillory to gather information, specifically about its current rulers. Things (unsurprisingly) get complicated very quickly.





	fated to be;

**Author's Note:**

> ★ please follow me on twitter @ queermight & check out my pinned tweet! ★
> 
> im v excited for this fic......... here's to hoping it doesn't flop

When Quentin discovered Brakebills, he thought: _this is it._ The peak of his life, everything he’d been waiting for. And it was… great, but even in a magical school he found not much was different. Students still naturally paired off in groups, tests still sucked, his depression didn’t magically disappear. He was still just _Quentin_.

He had succeeded in making one friend, at least! Kind of. Friend was probably a reach, but Alice was nice and smart and pretty. And they worked together a lot on projects. (Quentin was beginning to think Alice just took pity on him.)

He actually assumed when he was called into Dean Fogg’s office alongside Alice it probably had something to do with one of their projects. Spoiler: it didn’t.

“Quentin, Alice,” Henry greeted with a polite smile, standing up behind his desk. “Please, sit.” He gestured at the two chairs in front of his desk. Quentin was pretty sure they were put out just for them. Usually there was only one.

Biting his lip, he took a seat and watched Alice do the same, primly adjusting her skirt. Henry sat back down too, folding his hands together.

There was a long moment of silence before Henry scooted back and grabbed a bottle of whiskey off a table. “Drinks?” he asked. He didn’t wait for an answer; he grabbed three cups and scooted forward again, placing them on the desk.

He poured them each a generous amount. “Quentin,” he said, glancing up. “You are a big fan of… uh, those Fillory books, yes?”

Quentin took one of the cups gingerly, holding it in both hands. “Um. Yes?” he answered, blinking. “How - how do you know that?”

Alice smiled sheepishly as Henry glanced in her direction. “Your friend told me.” Looking back, he smiled, a bit more sincere. “She didn’t know I was grilling her for information, mind you.”

“Oh.” Quentin nodded once, furrowing his brows. “Why do you ask?”

Henry cleared his throat after taking a long gulp of his whiskey. Quentin didn’t know he was more impressed or intimidated. He took a slow sip of his own. “Do you believe yourselves to be competent magicians?”

Finally Alice was the one to speak. She stared at him with unwavering confidence. “Yes,” she answered. “We still have a lot of learning to do, but… yes.”

Henry smiled lightly and turned to Quentin, raising both eyebrows. “And you?”

Quentin curled in on himself - his default, really. His eyes flickered to Alice, who nodded encouragingly. Maybe they really _were_ friends. “Um.” He swallowed thickly. “Yes.”

Henry narrowed his eyes and stared at him for a long, long moment before finally looking away. “Good,” he replied with a sigh. “Then that means I have an offer for you both.”

Quentin could see Alice tensing out of the corner of his eye. He wondered if he should be nervous too.

“Do not worry,” he continued, smiling almost menacingly. “It will be beneficial for you both.”

Alice smiled grimly. “Comforting.”

Quentin bit his bottom lip and wiped his sweaty hands off on his jeans. At this point he felt like he should just leave the talking - or negotiating - to Alice. She seemed to be better at it, as she was with most things.

“Alice, you are searching for your missing brother, correct?” Henry continued breezily, like sharing her personal information was no big deal.

Quentin could tell she was angry even though she tried to hide it, expression perfectly neutral. “I am,” she replied curtly. “None of you have been very helpful so far though,” she added, crossing her arms.

“I apologize for that,” Henry said, nodding lightly. “And you, Quentin,” he turned to look at him. “Your father is ill or rather… dying?”

Quentin froze. Just like Alice hadn’t shared about her brother, he hadn’t told anyone about his father except Henry and Julia. He was regretting telling Henry now. “I - ” he pursed his lips and stared down at his feet. “Yes.”

“What the fuck is this?” Alice snapped suddenly. “You get off on talking about other people’s trauma?” she added, nose twitching with anger.

Quentin was frankly scared of her in that moment. He made himself as small as possible, fidgeting with his hands. He watched through his eyelashes as Henry shook his head, smiling ruefully.

“What if I said I could help you both achieve your goals?” Henry asked, glancing between them both. “You, Alice, in finding your brother. And you, Quentin, in saving your father.”

Alice narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Neither of those things will be easy to do,” she replied icily, leaning forward. “How can you promise us that?”

Henry gestured around. “This is _my_ school, Miss Quinn. I have connections in high places. Magicians who specialize in locator spells, and…” he glanced at Quentin, “other things.”

“No,” Alice said, standing up. “It’s stupid and risky, and I’m pretty sure a flat out lie.” Tilting her chin in the air, she turned toward the door. “Coming, Quentin?” 

He didn’t want to let her down, but. “I - I really want to help my dad,” he blurted, cheeks warming as he realized what he’d said. Alice’s face softened a bit before hardening again.

“Q,” she said, a bit gentler. Quentin wondered when she’d picked up the nickname from Julia. She’d only met Julia a few times, but no one else called him that - only Julia and his father, and he’s positive she’s never met him.

Standing up, he took her arm and pulled her into a corner. Henry didn’t interrupt, and knowing him he probably had some kind of eavesdropping spell activated. “I - I have to do this, Alice,” he said, surprised by his own stubbornness.

She licked her lips, touching his arm softly. “I know you want to help your dad, Quentin, but this is - this is stupid and reckless. I don’t think we can trust him.”

If he did had an eavesdropping spell activated he was a pretty good actor because he didn’t react to her cruel words at all, just continued to nurse his second glass of whiskey, watching them.

“We don’t even know what he wants yet,” he mumbled, looking down at their feet.

Alice sighed lightly. “It can’t be anything good if he’s offering us such high rewards.” Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she crossed her arms. “Okay, we can hear him out.” When Quentin looked up with hopeful eyes, she fought to keep a smile off her face. “But if I think it’s too dangerous, I’m bailing and if you won’t come with me, I’ll drag Julia here to help.”

He nodded. “Okay. Deal.”

Smiling tightly, Alice led them back to the chairs and took a seat, crossing her heels. “Okay, what do you want from us in return?”

Quentin was once again content to let her do the talking.

Henry barely spared her a glance though, focusing his heavy gaze on Quentin. He shifted, uncomfortable with the attention. Alice cleared her throat, but Henry didn’t budge. “You know everything there is to know about Fillory, right?”

Quentin shrugged, a sharp, jerky movement. “Probably?” he answered, almost a squeak. “I’ve - I’ve read all the books and - and I scroll through the forums a lot.” He blushed, shrugging again. “Less so, recently,” he added, barely a whisper.

“Why do you keep going back to those books?” Alice asked, narrowing her eyes.

Henry finally looked at her. “You’ve read them too.” It wasn’t a question. “You told me the other day, but you’re not like Quentin. No… he knows stuff that wasn’t even included in the books.”

“And?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. She glanced at Quentin briefly. “I mean, I’m not making fun of you, but how is that important right now?”

Henry sighed heavily and leaned back, clasping his hands together over his stomach. “Fillory is real.”

The room was eerily silent for a few long seconds. Alice, like always, was the first to speak. “Is this some kind of joke?” she asked, looking around like she expected something to happen. “If so, it’s a rather cruel one, considering.”

Quentin didn’t know what to think. He swallowed loudly, rubbing his hands up and down his jeans. “Um. What do you mean, exactly?”

Henry sighed and pushed the whiskey across the desk to Quentin. He moved on autopilot, pouring himself a second drink. He poured Alice one too, who seemed to think better of it for a total of three seconds before she downed it like a champ. He followed her example, welcoming the familiar burn in his throat.

“Fillory is _real_. We only discovered it by accident.” Henry adjusted himself. “From our knowledge, we are the only ones who know at this point and we’d like to gather information, be prepared, before anyone else.”

Alice blinked once before grabbing the whiskey and taking a gulp straight from the bottle. Henry didn’t seem to mind. “You - ” she wiped her mouth. “You honestly expect us to believe that?”

“I can show you,” he offered. “Just a simple mirror spell would do the trick.”

Alice licked her lips. Her lipstick was smeared, but no one cared. “Before that,” she said, placing the bottle back on the desk, “why are you telling _us_ this?”

Henry let out a deep breath. “We want someone - or someones, in your case - to help us gather information on Fillory.” He smiled tightly. “Just in case. It could prove helpful in the future.”

“I don’t…” Quentin muttered. “Fillory is _real?_ ”

Henry nodded sharply. “And we want you two to infiltrate the castle. Find out all you can about their current rulers, their customs, anything.” He licked his lips. “Easy enough. You will go undercover as guards. Stay close to the rulers, report back via talking rabbits.”

Quentin laughed under his breath. Talking rabbits were fucking real, man.

“And what?” Alice pushed, leaning forward, elbows on the desk. “What happens if we get caught? Is execution big in Fillory?” she narrowed her eyes. “Sorry, they didn’t really touch on that in the books.”

Henry smiled tightly, all fake politeness. “Ali -”

“It’s not,” Quentin mumbled quietly, startling when they both immediately turned to look at him. Alice looked confused, mostly. Henry watched him like a hawk. “I mean - Fillory isn’t big on executions… probably.” He picked at a loose thread hanging from his jeans. “They’re, uh, way more keen on banishment.”

Henry grinned, clapping. “Perfect. Quentin, you are exactly who we need for this.”

He smiled sheepishly, glancing at Alice. Her face was hardened, expressionless. “Alice?” he asked nervously.

“We need time to think about this,” she said.

Henry nodded once. “Of course, but we’ll want an answer soon. For now, just go to class. We can discuss the matter more later.”

Standing up, Alice brushed off her skirt and walked to the door. Quentin smiled awkwardly at Henry before rushing to catch up with her, nearly tripping over his own two feet in his haste. Despite her hard expression, she did slow down for him, so he counted that as a win. They walked side by side to the cottage.

“What about Julia?” she asked finally.

Quentin licked his lips. He hadn’t even thought about that. “She’d understand,” he muttered, folding his arms over his body. It was a chilly late afternoon.

“But you mentioned once she loved the books too, didn’t you?” she asked, eyes surprisingly soft. “Won’t she be jealous?”

Quentin swallowed thickly. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “Maybe?”

“But even then, you’d still want to do this?”

How could he say no? Fillory had saved his life so many times over the years, and now he knew it wasn’t all fiction but a real, tangible place. “Yes,” he answered, looking up into the sky. “I really, really do.”

Alice nodded.

They walked in silence after that.

&

Quentin realized very quickly actually telling Julia the truth was a lot harder than just thinking about it. He made her a few muffins - slightly burnt, but her favorite - and put them in a container before setting off. Alice gave him an encouraging smile as he left, waving lightly.

Julia wasn’t actually in her room though, which put a slight damper in his plans.

“Julia isn’t here,” the Knowledge student who answered the door stared at him boredly. “Check the library.”

Quentin nodded mutely and set off in the direction of the library. Food wasn’t allowed in the library, but the librarians were rarely around to enforce the rules anyway. Slipping through the two large doors, he spotted Julia right away.

Her lean figure was hunched over a table, alternating between reading a book and scribbling in her notebook. Quentin approached slowly, not wanting to disturb her.

“Hey,” he said, sliding in the seat across from her. He placed the container on the table and patted the top. “I come bearing muffins.”

Julia glanced up, her lips quirking. “We’re not supposed to eat in the library.”

“If we don’t get caught,” Quentin mumbled, popping open the lid, “did we really break the rules?” He passed Julia a muffin before grabbing one for himself. Blueberry; her favorite.

Julia grinned around the muffin as she took a bite, wiping her mouth. “Hey, don’t use my own words against me.”

An image of them, much younger, standing outside of their high school in the pouring rain. They were both huddled together under the awning. Julia pulled out a cigarette, and Quentin gasped lightly. “ _Jules_.”

“ _Just one_ ,” she said, pouting. “ _Besides it's only breaking the rules if we get caught,_ ” she continued with a wink, slipping another one out for Quentin. He could still remember how their fingers had brushed when she’d handed it over, his heart skipping a beat.

He no longer felt that sensation when they touched. He was glad for that. He loved Julia too much to lose her over something stupid like an unrequited crush.

“You overheard Dean Fogg calling us into his office yesterday, right?” he asked around the mouthful in his mouth.

Julia shook her head fondly. “Yeah.” She pulled her water closer and took a sip. “What was that about?”

“Um.” Quentin picked at the rest of his muffin. “It’s kind of… complicated?”

Julia closed her book, humming. “Try me.”

Quentin smiled sheepishly. “Right, well.” He stuffed a big piece of muffin in his mouth. He chewed slowly. “Uh, Fogg wants us to do something for him.”

“Oh.” Julia tilted her head thoughtfully. “Like… an assignment or something?”

Quentin licked the crumbs from his lips. “Not… exactly,” he answered, clearing his throat. He suddenly wished he had water. “More like a job?”

“A job?” Julia parroted skeptically.

Quentin nodded and leaned forward, lowering his voice. “He - he said he could help my dad, Julia.”

“That’s…” Julia smiled, eyebrows furrowing together. “That’s great, Q, but I thought - ”

“Everyone said it was impossible, I know,” he interrupted, not unkindly. “But he said he knows people. He might be able to save my dad, Jules.” He stared at her. “I have to do it. For him.”

Julia nodded slowly and reached across the table to touch his hand. “Okay,” she agreed softly. “I understand. So what exactly does he want you to do?”

Oh, this was the hard part, huh?

“He wants me to go undercover and… gather information,” he said, purposely vague.

Julia blinked once. “Um. Where?”

“Fillory?” he squeaked.

Julia blinked again, slower. “Q, did you hit your head?” She even pulled back and did a quick spell to check his head. Obviously she found nothing by the look of disbelief on her face. “Maybe _he_ hit his head.”

Quentin squinted. “No one hit their head, Jules. Fillory is - it’s real. All of it, apparently.” He couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. “And I get to go, and it’s just… Jules, it’s real. We were _right_.”

When he finally finished, he looked up and remembered why he’d been so hesitant to tell her in the first place. Her expression was pinched, her lips a thin line.

“And Alice gets to go with you.” It wasn’t a question. Pursing her lips, she looked away and sighed lightly. “I’m - I’m happy for you, Q. I am.” Standing up, she leaned over to kiss his forehead. “Come on, I need some air.”

Quentin shoved the container of leftover muffins in his bag and chased after her.

“I wish you could come with us,” he said softly. It was the truth too. He’d give anything to be able to explore Fillory with Julia. “Maybe… maybe we can go back later. Together.”

Julia nodded, clasping her hands together behind her back as she walked. She stared up at the sky, somehow never tripping. Quentin admired that about her. She was always so graceful. “Why does Dean Fogg want you going there in the first place?”

He shrugged lightly, walking by her side. “Just to gather information, I guess. He said it might be helpful later. Not really sure why.”

Julia stopped suddenly, grabbing Quentin’s arm. He slowed to a stop too, glancing at her. “You should ask more questions,” she said, squeezing his arm. “I want you to know what you’re getting into, Q.”

Quentin smiled softly and nodded, hugging her. “I can’t keep a journal. They’d find it, but I promise I’ll remember everything and tell you every detail as soon as I get back.”

“You better,” she muttered, burying her face in his shoulder.

&

Alice and Quentin returned to Henry’s office that night. They both took a seat. Quentin noticed Alice was a bit stiffer this time, sitting up straight with her hands in her lap. He copied her pose, remembering Julia’s advice. _Ask as many questions as you can._

“So, have you decided?” Henry asked without wasting any time. He hadn’t even bother to pull out the whiskey.

Alice cleared her throat quietly. “I have a few questions.” She glanced at Quentin. “And I’m sure Quentin does as well.”

Henry sighed, but gestured for her to go on.

“Where are you going to tell everyone we went?” she asked, like she was reading it off a list. “They’re going to wonder.”

Henry hummed. “You were both chosen for a special advanced program.”

Alice nodded slowly. “How are you going to make sure we can blend in as bodyguards?” she asked, nose twitching. “I mean, one person might be doable, but two at once?”

“You remember the mirror spell I told you about?” he asked. They both nodded. “I’ve been using it a lot - it’s given me bits and pieces of information. If you’re unsure,” his eyes were on Quentin, “it basically allows the user to spy on someone. It apparently works with worlds too.”

Quentin’s mouth twitched. “But how does that help?”

“I’ve caught sight of a few bodyguard roaming the forests surrounding the castle.” He smiled grimly. “I had exact copies of their uniforms made. There’s also different ones all the time; I’m assuming they have quite a number of bodyguards. It’d be hard to keep track of every single one.”

Alice didn’t seem fully convinced, but she nodded away and went to her next question. “So you’re throwing us into a strange, new world and hoping we don’t get caught?” she asked skeptically. “ _Great_.”

Henry shrugged. “I have something to show you.” Twisting, he opened a drawer and pulled out a small container that he placed on the desk.

“This is…” Alice eyed it. “A button?”

Henry pursed his lips. “We haven’t exactly tested it yet, but.” He nodded at the button. “This is supposed to let you jump worlds, much like a traveler.”

“And you want us to be the ones to test it,” Alice said blandly. It wasn’t a question.

Henry smiled tightly. “It’s one of a kind,” he explained, tapping the container.

“It’s - it’s in the books,” Quentin whispered, staring at the button with wide eyes. “Where did you find it?”

Henry pushed the container in Quentin’s direction. “It’s a long story.” He watched Quentin for a long moment, the way he picked up the container and stared at the button with curious, hopeful eyes. “So.” Folding his hands together, he glanced back at Alice. “Next question.”

“This sounds like a suicide mission - “

Quentin cut her off, mumbling, “banishment.”

She rolled her eyes, somewhat fondly. “Fine, a _banishment_ mission. But what if they steal the button while banishing us?” she raised a thin eyebrow. “That’s just as well a suicide mission, wouldn’t you say?”

Henry gave her a skeptical look. “Come now, Miss Quinn, you are more than capable. I’m sure you’d survive, button or not.”

“Point is,” Alice stressed, glancing at Quentin, “this is dangerous and risky, and - and we’re barely magicians.” Her eyes betrayed her, showing her concern.

Henry sighed lightly. “I picked you both for different, but very specific reasons. Alice,” he said, looking at her, “you are insanely talented for someone your age, even if you are just coming into your own - you beat out some of our best. You will do well to protect not only yourself, but Quentin. And you,” he faced Quentin, “you know more about Fillory than anyone I know or could even find. That will be a big help in this quest.”

“Flattery,” Alice whispered under her breath, firmly crossing her arms. “ _Typical_.”

Quentin glanced between them, holding the container with the button in the palm of his hand. The sharp plastic edges were digging into his skin. “So...” he cleared his throat. “You mentioned the talking rabbits. That - that means we won’t be jumping back and forth, will we?”

“It’s too dangerous,” Henry answered. “I’d prefer if you made your home in Fillory for at least a little while. Once we have the information we need, you can blip back.” He gestured. “Save the button for that.”

Alice looked away, biting her lip. “What happens if we do die?” she asked suddenly. “You wouldn’t even have a way of knowing.”

“We can decide on that,” Henry raised both eyebrows. “How about... longer than two weeks without a report back, and we write you off as deceased?”

Quentin made a wounded noise in the back of his throat, but he didn’t object. Alice gripped her elbows tightly.

“Fine,” she grumbled, glaring at Henry openly. “But you better not be lying.”

Henry smiled politely. “About what?”

She glanced at Quentin and back again. “ _Any_ of it.”

"Of course not," Henry replied breezily.

&

They were given exactly three days to pack. On the final day, Quentin stood in the middle of his room, glancing around to make sure he didn't miss anything. He didn't have many items, really - mostly clothes and books. Henry had made it very clear he was not permitted to bring the Fillory books (thank God he'd memorized most of them, then).

" _f they found them, they'd be suspicious_ ", he'd said.

Which made sense, to be fair, but this would be the first time he stayed anywhere for longer than a week or two without them. Approaching his bookshelf, he ran his fingers across the spines of the books.

His heart squeezed. Fillory was _real_.

The door opened and he turned away, walking to his bag. Julia entered his room, wringing her hands. "They're going to fuck with my memory, aren't they?" she asked, but it wasn't really a question.

Quentin smiled sadly and walked over, pulling her into a hug. "Probably," he answered quietly, pulling away and adjusting his bag. "But I'll remind you of everything as soon as I get back, okay?"

Julia's eyes were glossy, but she didn't let a single tear fall. She'd always been strong - much, much stronger than Quentin. She thumped Quentin on the shoulder. "You better be safe, Q." She sniffed. "I will not lose you like this."

His smiled faltered a bit. "I swear, Jules. Walk me to the door?" he asked sheepishly.

Julia grinned, a bit lopsided. Quentin already knew he was going to miss her like crazy. Linking their arms, they walked out of his room and down the stairs.

"So," she said once they'd reached the door.

Quentin played with the strap of his bag. "So."

Julia smiled just a little, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I have a question I probably shouldn’t ask, but will anyway because I’m your best friend and fuck it. Do you like Alice, Q?”

He blinked once, genuinely surprised and gripped the strap of his bag tighter. The rough material scratched at the palm of his hand. “Um. She’s nice?” he answered slowly, furrowing his brows. “And really, really smart, so - “

“No,” Julia cut him off, raising both eyebrows. “You know what I mean.”

Quentin bit his bottom lip. He had wondered that briefly too, because Alice _is_ so many good things - nice (unless you got on her bad side), pretty, smart, talented. But, “I really don’t think so?” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I - I think she’s great, and... a long time ago maybe I would’ve thought that meant I had to like her like that, but... I think we’d be better off as friends.”

“Like us,” Julia muttered, smiling lightly. She hugged him again. “I love you, Q.”

He rubbed her back a bit awkwardly. He was never very good at hugs. He never knew how tight to hug or when to pull away. But Julia loved hugs, and she had no qualms about any of that; she hugged him as tight as he could, squeezing him.

“I love you too, Jules,” he replied, burying his face in her hair.

Julia was the first one to pull away. “Go. Be safe, but more importantly,” she peered up at him, a serious look on her face, “have fun, Q - make the most of this opportunity. You deserve it.”

“I - I really don’t know if I do,” he replied. “But... I really want to go, anyway.”

Julia smiled and tucked a few strands of hair behind one of his ears. “Go,” she repeated, a bit softer. Quentin could tell she was probably going to cry once he left and he hated knowing that.

Grabbing her hand, he squeezed once. “I’ll be back.”

Her smile wobbled a bit. “I know.”

He wanted to stay and comfort her more, but he couldn’t. Releasing her hand, he smiled sadly and opened the door. Julia waved. When the door closed behind him he took a deep breath and started off toward Henry’s office. He would miss Julia more than anything, but he had to do this. He had dreamed of this his whole life.

&

When he arrived at Henry’s office Alice was already there waiting. Unlike him, she had two bags hanging off her thin shoulders. He walked over and she smiled tightly.

“Need help?” he asked nervously.

Her smile turned a bit more genuine. “I’m good.” She touched his arm. “Thanks.”

Henry stood up from his desk and clasped his hands together. The button was sitting on his desk, untouched. Next to it was a large bag. Quentin took a shaky breath, his stomach doing flips. “I wish you both the best. Be safe, and smart. Report back everything and anything you think might be useful.”

“Wait.” Alice stepped forward. “I have one more question.”

Henry glanced at her, raising an eyebrow.

“What about magic?” she asked, pursing her lips.

Henry blinked once. “I would recommend you both keep your magic usage to a minimum.” His shoulders lifted and fell in a small shrug. “Just to be safe. We don’t want you attracting any unwanted attention, but of course, Alice, you are smart and I respect you’ll make the right choices concerning that. If it’s an emergency, please do what you think is best.”

She didn’t look very confident. “Okay.”

“In here,” he patted the large bag on his desk, “are the uniforms I had made.” He pushed the bag closer. “Take them with you and change once you get there. Be warned: they are quite bulky.”

Quentin nodded and stepped forward to grab the bag. It was the least he could do considering Alice was already carrying more. Alice grabbed the button and took a sharp breath, joining Quentin’s side. She opened the container and grabbed Quentin’s hand, the thumb of her other hand hovering over the button. Quentin wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her look so nervous, unsure of herself. He squeezed her hand and smiled encouragingly.

She looked up at him. “Thanks,” she muttered.

"Remember," Henry said, nodding at the button. "All you have to do is think of the place you wish to be."

Alice didn't need to be reminded. She looked at Henry. “If we die, know it’s on your hands.” Without waiting for a reply, she touched the button. 


End file.
